Fallen Star

Lot’s wife felt her eyes go first. To salt, as they say.
The angels came down, and in the instant before vision fled her she beheld the light of the Word, the bitter love of the Lord in wrathful, raging glory.
“It’s too bright,” she said, as her tongue turned to ash. “I can’t see.”
“I know,” said the Thunder, and shook her apart.
“I’m sorry,” said the Thunder, but there was no-one to hear.

Thomas Boyle

(Prompts: Light/Fallen Star – 1/2/17)

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